Calisto
by AnaCallisto
Summary: Because everyone has a role.
1. Honesty is a b

Disclaimer: I don't own bleach. As a matter of fact, I don't even own myself, 'cause thanks to college, I'm forever owned by my parents. (Stupid debt…)

Chapter One: Honesty is a b...

Really, in all honesty, she is very much aware of the fact that sake smells. Horrible. And again, in pure honesty, she is also very much alert to the God awful after taste as the liquid blazes a non too gentle trail down her throat. Rangiku Matsumoto has never been one to hide from truths, and so she embraces the smell and holds onto the bitterness. Just like she wraps her arms around the fact that Gin Ichimaru was never a monster. No. Her childhood friend, and object of unrequited love had never been the sort of being to inspire nightmares (although from time to time, she found herself awake in the dead of night, sweat leaking from her skin, and his name jumping from her lips). The bastard was a thief.

_Death._ That had been the first thing he took from her, and he stole that by taking away her hunger. Which meant the third time he stole from her, it had been loneliness. _And that was quickly followed by my heart._ Eyes, tinted with the color of steel, suddenly find themselves to be moist, and irritated, she brushes the tears aside. It was as though his pale, cold fingers had reached inside her chest, and plucked her heart from its hiding place. _And he refused to let me have it back._

It bothers her, from time to time, that she'd never really noticed those items to be missing, until Gin…_No,_ her thoughts clamp down viciously, sinking invisible teeth into his name. _Not Gin. _Bastard works better. It really suits him. He had taken back his friendship by joining the ranks of the shinigami. Then added further insult to aching injury when he became a captain. Became untouchable.

Death, hunger, loneliness, a heart, and friendship. That's what he stole from her, and Matsumoto allows herself a brief smile because that is all he's ever taken. Except, she knows that to be a lie, and Rangiku Matsumoto has never been a liar. Gi…the bastard swiped her memories, because now she can't seem to remember life before him. Before his mysterious smiles, and before his fingers used to wrap around her own. He made off with her dreams, because now she can't recall a single night where his presence hasn't dominated them; thin lips haven't made her cry both tears, or his blasted name.

G…he's taken more, and that is a reality she is more than sure of. She's also sure of the fact that she will never admit it. Because then it becomes truth, and then Rangiku Matsumoto has nothing left to hide behind. After all, she never was one to hide away from the truth.

End-

_**I've ran into a brick wall on my Renji and Yoruichi fic, so currently I'm accepting ideas. This particular piece, tho', I think I'll let the readers chose the characters and mind set of each drabble. Therefore, all ideas are both welcome and appreciated, and know that if I do refuse on, it will be because my skills are seriously lacking (- -;). **_


	2. It all falls down

Disclaimer: I don't own bleach. As a matter of fact, I don't even own myself, 'cause thanks to college, I'm forever owned by my parents. (Stupid debt…)

Chapter 2: It All Falls Down…

They're cold. And soft, yet unmistakably loud as they race from one destination to the next, some crashing on top various objects, while others splatter gleefully against rugged concrete. Plus they're wet. They are wet, and cold, and loud. Soft, but every time they touch on his bare arms it feels like needles. Hundreds of impossibly tiny, surprisingly sharp needles. So it's only logical, (at least to him anyway) to hate them. Which is why he can't understand her fascination for them. Doesn't comprehend why sapphire tinted eyes gaze at them when they trail along his windowpane, before turning to stare into his own chocolate coated orbs. It explains why his brain can't seem to grasp the fact, that the owner of those said sapphires, has now leapt from his window and out into the middle of them.

Her arms are spread as far as they can go, with her head tilted upwards and eyes closed. Hair, soft as silk and darker than the night, lies plastered against her face while they continue their erratic dancing; carried along by the wind like tiny ballerinas. For a while, she decides to dance along with them, her body twisting and twirling to the music that their demise creates.

Perhaps they're not as cold as he believes, and he reaches out with his long, tan fingers to catch some on their decent. No. The damnable stuff still makes him shiver, and he wipes them on the front of his shirt before shooting a glare out of his window. First he directs it at her; dancing without a care in the world, making him believe in things that are not possible. Then his piercing gaze darts upward and he curses at the sky. After all, if it weren't for the sky, then there would be no gray clouds, and if there were no gray clouds, then…

_Rukia wouldn't be having fun right now._ The pure absurdity of that thought make him shift his gaze to her once more, the corners of his mouth lifting along with one of his orange eyebrows. So what if he doesn't like rain? Who cares if the little droplets of water remind him of a time when he was too weak to save her, severely outclassed by a complete pansy (Not that he'll say that to the other man's face, of course)? Or too small to protect his mother. He most certainly doesn't.

"Hey, Ichigo?" She stands on his windowsill now, water running from her hair down to trace along her cheeks and slender neck. "Come dance with me."

And the fact that his heart no longer aches while they spill onto his floor has nothing to do with the twinkle in those oh-so-deep eyes, or the smile that lights up her porcelain features.

Not a damned thing.

End-

_**And drabble #2 is complete. It probably makes no sense, but I felt that Ichigo would put up with anything that made Rukia happy, so I figured he'd even give the rain a second chance, since it was always around for the low points in his life… **_


	3. No Ordinary Love

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing…**_

Chapter 3: No Ordinary Love

She belongs to another man. It's a fact that is cut and dry, plain and simple, and any of those other annoying little sayings that humans seem to spout at an alarming rate. And usually, that's how he likes things. He loves for things to be black and white, because then he never has to worry about crossing lines. He knows exactly where they are, and so has no problem stepping over them.

But she belongs to someone else. And the line is drawn, crystal clear, in the sand waiting for his sandal clad foot. But unlike all the other lines, which beg and plead for him to step on them, this one mocks him. Daring him to throw away everything they've ever shared. This particular line is one that scares him. She scares him. He scares himself as well, if that makes any sense, and he's sure that it doesn't. He isn't really sure what it is that pulls her to him. _Hell, she **isn't** sure about what it is that makes her want him._

But he does know that whatever it is, it's concrete. Solid. Like a rock, or piece of ice. Like their friendship is supposed to be. Like his heart when it drops into his stomach. It agitates the hell out of him, because first off, he's a genius. Geniuses know things, and not knowing things can severely piss them off. Secondly, he **knows** her. Has known her for years. So it makes absolutely no damned sense to him, that he can't figure her out.

He hates that he can't figure out why she's moaning in the middle of the night (well, of course he **knows** why, what he can't figure out, is how she could make such a sound, and he not be the cause of it). He can't stand the fact, that another man has put a smile on her face so bright, that the sun should turn away in embarrassment.

But there are some things that he does understand. He understands that she is not his, never has been and most likely never will be. And he understands that he is hers, because no woman has ever cast a spell on him in the way that she has, so subtle that it took him years to notice how warm he feels when she smiles at him. He understands that she needs him. Both of them, in ways that the other will never be comfortable with. Urahara realizes that she needs the loud and arrogant son of a bitch, because she needs his dominance over her (what very little he has anyway). He sees that Yoruichi needs him, because she also needs someone who exerts no dominance over her at all.

She craves balance. And they give it to her, one unknowingly and the other unhappily. After all, while her relationship may be made from fire, their friendship is the type that forms legends.

End

**Okay, so the ending's a cop out. Inspiration left me right as I got to the very last paragraph. (Insert long-suffering sigh) such is life, no?**


	4. Let it Snow

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

Chapter 4: Let it Snow

He doesn't need to be told that she's in love with the snow. It's clear in the way she stands; head tilted backwards, and eyes open wide. And he can't possibly fault her when she lets out a joyous whoop, spinning in circles as the tiny flakes float to the ground.

She doesn't need to be told that he loves the cold. She can see it in the way he smiles; a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. And she can only shake her head when he slips out of his coat, slinging it over one shoulder.

No one needs to be told that they enjoy each others company. It's obvious in the way she walks past him; knocking against him with her elbow. And apparent by the way he smirks before catching back up to her, returning her knock with one of his own.

_Officially the shortest piece I've ever written…Feel free to make this a pairing of your choice…_


	5. Let's Make a Trade

_Disclaimer: I own nothing…_

Chapter 5: Let's Make a Trade

She can not, for the life of her, remember when their roles changed. Can't recall exactly when her best friends became the knights, and she the helpless princess. Not that they were ever helpless, mind you, but still…

As far back as her memory will take her, he was one who needed protection. And she had willingly given it. Gradually, it became more of a team than her protecting him, but some how she missed it. Missed the moment when he began to have to protect her.

For as long as she'd known her, it was her fists that kept the girl safe from harm. And it was her presence that stopped tears from rolling down delicate cheeks. Yet it slipped right past her. The second that it became her who depended upon the other to keep her safe.

Yes, Tatsuki most definitely missed the meeting in which Ichigo decided he would now protect her. And she certainly never received the memo that Orihime no longer required her as guardian. So she can't help but feel inadequate as she glances up at the sky. _Who said I wanted to trade?_

End-


End file.
